


Night Shift

by Wonko



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, no-one's sick of fics like that yet right?, yet another different way of them getting together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: Bernie is coming to the end of a series of night shifts but the workmen outside her window are making sleep impossible. Serena has a novel solution.





	1. Men at Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lzdaydreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lzdaydreamer/gifts).



> Yet another fic idea based on my friend lzdaydreamer's life. The woman is a living muse.

The drilling was relentless. Constant, over and over, unending. Bernie mentally went through a list of synonyms, like some kind of insomniac thesaurus. Persistent. Sustained. Inexorable. Yes, she liked that one. The inexorable progress of the hideous noise outside her flat was driving her  _ inexorably  _ mad.

“Hey!” she yelled, throwing her bedroom window open and sticking her dishevelled head out of it. “I’m on nights and I haven’t slept for two days because of your infernal noise!”

The workmen paused in their interminable work and looked up at her with fags dangling from their lips and matching amused leers.

“Calm your tits, love,” one called back. He looked young enough to be her son. “We’re just doing our jobs!”

Bernie ground her teeth so hard she was surprised she couldn’t hear a crack. “Oh, really?” she shouted. “Well I’m a surgeon, and if one of you ends up on my table tonight after yet another day of no sleep, I hope I can keep my eyes open long enough to save your poxy life!” She slammed the window shut again, but not before the sound of riotous laughter reached her. Fuming, she tore the window open again. “And I was in the army you know; I know thirteen different ways to kill you with my bare hands!”

She flung herself back onto the bed and covered her head with a pillow, screaming out her frustration and embarrassment into the mattress. Had she really just threatened a bunch of workmen with death? Probably wouldn’t look good if it got back to the GMC.

After another ten minutes of trying and failing to fall asleep with that cacophony going on outside, she finally admitted defeat. She might as well be at work making herself useful. A hot shower and a strong coffee revived her spirits slightly, but she was still tetchy and on the verge of screaming as she stomped out of the building.

The boy who’d shouted at her earlier saw her leaving and whistled. “Coming to kill us, love?” he crowed. “Or maybe you want to give us an examination?” He began unbuttoning his shirt, to the evident glee of his workmates, if their cackling and hooting was anything to go by.

Bernie threw the MX5 into gear and drove off, stolidly avoiding his gaze.

The ward was busy when she arrived, with every bay full and all the staff buzzing around like frantic bees. She quickly changed into scrubs and found Serena by the nurses’ station, inspecting a chart. She glanced up in surprise when she realised who had sidled up beside her. “You’re not due in until seven,” she exclaimed, glancing at her watch as if she could somehow have mislaid four hours.

Bernie ran her fingers through her hair absently. “Couldn’t get any sleep,” she admitted. “They’re digging up the road outside my flat. Laying cables for Richard bloody Branson, I believe. All so my neighbours can get three hundred channels of nothing instead of two hundred.” She leaned her hip against the desk, turning so she was half facing Serena, half the ward. “I used to be able to sleep in any conditions. Gunfire, bombs, alarms - none of it bothered me. Civilian life must be turning me soft.”

Serena smiled gently. “Oh, I don’t think so Major,” she murmured, casting an eye over the subtly defined muscles of her forearms before meeting her eyes. “Why don’t you go and catch forty winks in the on call room?”

Bernie shook her head. “It’s busy - I can help-” she began, but Serena cut her off with a finger on her lips.

“You weren’t expected for hours yet and we’re fully staffed. I can handle it.”

Bernie blinked stupidly for a moment, then flushed when she realised that Serena’s finger was still on her lips. Serena seemed to realise it at the same time because she dropped her hand and looked away.

Before the silence between them had a chance to get awkward, Raf appeared holding an iPad. “Any chance of a second opinion?” he asked, holding it out to Serena, who took it gratefully.

“On call room,” she repeated, glancing at Bernie. “I promise to come and get you if we get overwhelmed.”

Bernie couldn’t argue with that.

The on call room was blessedly empty and - though not silent, given its location in a busy hospital - it was more than peaceful enough for Bernie to fall asleep. She slumped face down onto the thin single mattress, not bothering to take off her shoes or climb under the duvet. Within moments, she was asleep.

She dreamed of Serena’s hands stroking gently over her face, pushing her hair behind her ear, sliding softly over her cheekbones. She moaned in quiet pleasure, nestling a little more comfortably against the pillow. “Bernie,” Serena’s beautiful voice called through the haze of sleep. “Bernie.”

Her eyes blinked open. Serena was sitting on the bed beside her, absently stroking her hair back from her face. For a moment Bernie lay stock still, her confused mind struggling to locate the difference between her dream and reality. Then she groggily sat up, letting Serena’s hand fall back to her side.

Serena coughed once to clear her throat. “Sorry to wake you,” she murmured. “Trauma call. Industrial accident at a work site in Clifton.”

Bernie blinked a couple of times, then brought up her hand to sweep the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at her watch - it was just before five o’clock. “Right,” she said. “Okay. Just let me wash my face and I’ll be right there.”

She arrived back on the ward just as the patient was being wheeled in. The paramedics handed Fletch his notes and he began to read them aloud as the medics of the trauma bay took over and began to perform their jobs. “Darren Smith,” he read. “Twenty six years old, was digging up a road in Clifton when the pneumatic drill slipped. Caught him in the foot. We’re looking at traumatic crush injuries and blood loss - looks like he’s had a pint of O Neg in the ambulance.”

Bernie felt the usual adrenaline take over as she examined the patient’s mangled foot. “Cut this boot off, then theatre. Now,” she instructed, then finally looked up and met the terrified young man’s eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”

Darren Smith’s face paled even more upon seeing her, something Bernie hadn’t thought was possible. “Oh, shit,” he moaned, obviously remembering his mockery and laughter as she drove away from her flat earlier that day. He looked wildly about and latched onto Serena, standing on his left. He gripped her arm. “I don’t want her operating on me,” he said, his voice high and tight. “Anyone else.”

Serena brushed his hand away impatiently. “Ms Wolfe is the finest trauma surgeon this country has to offer,” she insisted. “If you want to keep that foot, you want her in theatre with you.”

Darren looked from her to Bernie, terror and pain warring on his face. Bernie managed a small smile. “Look Darren, I know we had a little spat earlier today but I’m a professional and I’m going to do everything in my power to fix you up.” She patted his uninjured leg. “I’ve seen much worse than this in my time. You should see the poor sods who trod on landmines.”

His eyes widened. “You were really in the army?”

Serena frowned, her lips twisting in a confused smile. “Ms Wolfe is a seasoned twenty year veteran of the Royal Army Medical Corps,” she explained. “Now, we really do need to get you into theatre Darren - you and Ms Wolfe can chat about her varied and illustrious career after we’ve saved your foot.”

He nodded, collapsing back against the gurney as he was wheeled away. “I’ll need you,” Bernie said. “Scrub in.” Serena just nodded.

They stood side by side in the scrub room, going through the familiar routine of disinfection and gowning. “Friend of yours?” Serena asked casually, her amusement betrayed only by a tiny quirk of her mouth that only Bernie would have noticed.

A bark of laughter escaped Bernie’s lips. “Not exactly,” she admitted. “He’s one of the workmen digging up the road outside my flat. We had a little altercation, shall we say, before I came in today. I might have informed him I knew thirteen ways to kill him with my bare hands.”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “Only thirteen,” she remarked. “I’m disappointed. I’d have thought your medical training alone would have pushed that number higher.”

Bernie snorted. “It was clearly an underestimate born of anger and frustration.”

Darren was already under when they entered the operating theatre and for a long time they didn’t have any need to speak. Bernie was focusing on the damage to the bones and ligaments, working quickly and competently. Serena, meanwhile, was concerning herself with restoring blood flow to the toes, which were cool to the touch at the beginning of the procedure. “I’ll have to do a vein graft,” she commented after what felt like minutes but was actually an hour of solid work.

Bernie glanced up at her. “Tricky,” she said.

Serena just laughed. “Have a little faith, Ms Wolfe.”

“Oh, I have every faith in you Ms Campbell.”

Something in her tone made Serena look up. Their eyes met and held for a long second, then Bernie looked away, her blush hidden by her surgical mask.

They continued to work, staying largely out of each other’s way, working like two halves of a whole. Barely a word was needed, both instinctively knowing what they other wanted with each  _ could you?  _ or  _ I need…  _

Two hours later they peeled their masks and caps off with twin weary sighs and shared a smile. It would be a long recovery, but Darren Smith would keep his foot. Bernie had no doubt that a lesser team of surgeons would have had to amputate, and she said as much to Serena as they scrubbed out. 

Serena just smiled. “All thanks to you,” she said. “Without you we’d have no trauma bay, no extra training. I’d have amputated that foot in a hot second if you weren’t here.”

Bernie kept her eyes on her hands, focusing on the routine of scrubbing out so she wouldn’t have to meet the warmth in Serena’s eyes. “I doubt I could have done that vein graft,” she murmured. “And without that everything I did would have been pointless.” She paused her repetitive scrubbing motions when she felt Serena’s hand on her elbow.

“Let’s just say we both make each other better,” Serena said softly. Bernie turned to look at her at last, her expression softening as she took in Serena’s gentle smile.

“Okay,” she agreed, her mouth suddenly dry. “We do make a great team.” She managed a small smile. “You really think I’m the finest trauma surgeon this country has to offer?”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “Of course. You don’t think I’d give up half my ward for anyone less, do you?” She patted Bernie’s elbow once more, her eyes twinkling, before returning to her own scrubbing out routine.

Back in their office, Serena packed up her stuff while Bernie made a quick escape to get coffee. She waited around for a few minutes, despite the lateness of the hour and the fact that Darren Smith’s surgery had caused her shift to significantly overrun and Jason would be severely put out.

Bernie seemed surprised to see her when she returned with a small cup in her hand that contained a triple shot of espresso and nothing else. “Not escaped yet?”

Serena hefted her handbag onto her shoulder. “Just about to,” she said. “I was thinking though...those workmen will probably still be on your street tomorrow, right?”

Bernie shrugged. “I expect so,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee and closing her eyes as the caffeine flowed through her.

Serena looked down at her shoes. “Well, you’ve clearly not slept well for days,” she said. “And my house will be empty. Nice and quiet.” She held out her hand, dangling something between her fingers. “Why don’t you come round when your shift ends and get some proper rest?”

Bernie looked down at Serena’s hand and realised she was holding out the spare house key that she kept in the drawer of her desk. She reached out and took it before her mind had caught up. “Oh,” she said. “There’s no need really. This is my last night shift. I’ll probably just stay up all day then get some sleep tomorrow night.”

Serena tutted, shaking her head. “That’s no good,” she said. “When I’m coming off a series of night shifts I need to sleep for most of the day  _ and  _ the following night. I can’t imagine that you’re so different.” Her voice softened. “Come on. The bags under your eyes have bags under their eyes.”

Bernie brought her hand instinctively to her face as if to check the truth of Serena’s words. At the last moment she changed the motion and rubbed at her tired eyes instead. They felt raw and gritty and she knew she must look like hell. “Okay,” she said, sighing. “You’re right.”

Serena smiled. “Oh, Bernie,” she said. “When are you going to learn?” She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a throaty whisper that caressed Bernie’s ear like the wings of a thousand butterflies. “I’m always right.”

Bernie was still rooted to the spot, speechless and blinking, as Serena headed for the door. “Just let yourself in tomorrow morning,” she called over her shoulder. “We can have breakfast together before I head back here.”

“Okay,” Bernie replied, belatedly. Serena was already gone.

Bernie released a long, slow breath, willing her pulse to slow down. She had a long shift to get through yet.


	2. The Night After the Shift Before

Serena’s house was still and silent when Bernie let herself in early the next morning. She tiptoed through the hallway and let herself into the kitchen, blowing out a heavy breath as she slumped onto a stool and rested her head on the breakfast bar.

The last night shift in a series was always the worst, but the last few days had been particularly challenging. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this tired. Not after hours of labour with Cameron, not when Charlotte had been colicky, not even on her first tour of duty when it seemed like there was a never ending stream of broken bodies coming into their camp, one after another after another.

“Getting on a bit, old girl,” she mumbled, shaking her head. Too old for days with no sleep, that was for sure. And too old for hopeless crushes on unavailable women.

She set her jaw, deliberately pushing that thought to one side. She stood up and stalked over to the fridge, squinting at the printed, colour coded schedule stuck to the door. Jason had set meals for each day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Today was Wednesday and, according to the timetable, it was cornflakes and toast day.

She nodded, then opened the fridge door to have a root around. Jason’s breakfast would take care of itself, but she was sure she could do better for Serena. It was just before seven - the Campbell-Haynes household would soon be waking up.

She busied herself preparing eggs and toast and smoked salmon and, by the time Jason and Serena tumbled blearily downstairs, she had just set the table and placed their respective breakfasts at their usual places. Jason greeted her warmly, obviously having been warned that she’d be joining them, then sat down and poured his cornflakes without sparing her a second glance.

Serena, on the other hand, was staring at her with shining eyes, her face beaming with surprised happiness. Bernie had to look away after a moment, cheeks burning. She resisted fidgeting with a sheer force of will.

Serena seemed to know better than to draw attention to what Bernie had done but couldn’t stop herself from catching Bernie’s fingers below the table and tangling them with hers for a brief moment. “This looks lovely,” she murmured, her voice wavering only slightly as she picked up a fork and began to eat.

Bernie washed and put away the dishes while Serena and Jason got ready for work, feeling the tiredness settling deep in her bones with every minute that passed in a vertical position. At last, Serena came back downstairs. She looked beautiful. She always did, of course - Bernie didn’t think she’d ever known a more effortlessly exquisite woman - but she looked particularly lovely today in a burgundy silk shirt and understated makeup that highlighted her shining eyes.

“You look gorgeous,” Bernie said, tiredness making the truth bypass the filter she usually maintained around Serena. Her eyes widened as she realised what she’d said, but Serena just smiled.

“Thank you very much, Major. Breakfast, washing up _and_ compliments, all before eight o’clock - a girl could get used to this.” She winked, her smile seeming to grow wider as Bernie blushed. “First door on the right when you go upstairs,” she continued. “I’ve left some clothes out that might do, though I expect you’ll find them a little large on the hips and a little short in the leg.” She let her eyes drift down Bernie’s body to her feet and then back up to her face, her cheeks pinking slightly. “But they’ll do a turn, as my mother used to say.”

Bernie blinked. “Oh,” she said, after a short, silent pause. “Thanks. Thanks very much.”

Serena nodded. “You’ll find a new toothbrush in the bathroom as well. Feel free to have a shower, and obviously help yourself to anything in the fridge. Oh, except the chocolate milk - that’s Jason’s.”

“Not a problem.”

Bernie saw Serena and Jason to the door, then paused in the hallway after she’d locked it after them. It was strange, being alone in Serena’s house. She’d been there before, of course - several times, in fact, for dinners and wine and quiz shows with Jason. But Serena had always been there too.

And yet, it was like Serena was still there with her somehow. Her essence was present in every room in the house, in the threads of the carpets, in the colours of the walls, even in the scent of the air. It was comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

She trudged up the stairs, weary beyond words, but stopped short, blinking owlishly as she stepped through the first door on the right. There must be some mistake, she thought blearily. She must have misheard the directions because this was clearly Serena’s bedroom, not a guest room. But there were the clothes Serena had promised, laid out on the freshly made bed. Could Serena really have meant her to sleep here? A shiver of heat rolled down her spine at the thought of lying in the same spot Serena had spent the night, being surrounded by her scent, breathing her in all day as she slept. Even if it wasn’t what Serena had meant, it was too tempting a notion to pass up.

She showered in Serena’s en-suite, letting the antiseptic scent of her long shift flow down the drain, then unwrapped the promised new toothbrush and brushed her teeth, staring at the face of her exhaustion in the mirror.

She dressed in the clothes Serena had left for her: a pair of maroon scrub bottoms - when had Serena worked on Keller, she wondered - and a soft, vintage Harvard t-shirt in the same colour. Her chest warmed at the thought that she was wearing Serena’s clothes. She imagined a young Serena picking this out in Massachusetts, bringing it back with her to England, washing and wearing it over and over until it was as comfortable as an old friend. Wearing it was almost like being held by her.

She let that thought fill her up, warming her from the inside, as she nestled under the duvet and breathed in the scent of Serena’s perfume still clinging to the pillow. Within moments, she was fast asleep.

* * * * *

When she woke again it was dark. For a long moment she was disoriented, unable to remember where she was or why she was there. She knew it wasn’t her own bed - too comfortable, for a start. She’d never woken up in her own bed without an aching back. She closed her eyes again and stretched experimentally, happy to discover that her muscles weren’t protesting, then froze. Her foot had brushed up against something warm and soft. Another person.

Everything came back to her in a rush. Serena’s house. Serena’s _bed._ Her eyes flew open.

Serena was lying just a few inches to her left, face stripped of makeup, eyes closed. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. The blinking red lights of the radio alarm on her bedside table read three thirty in the morning. Bernie’s mouth dropped slightly open. That would mean she’d been asleep for over nineteen hours. Comfortable bed or no comfortable bed, that didn’t seem possible.

Serena frowned in her sleep and began to stir, as if she could sense Bernie’s eyes on her. Panic rose in Bernie’s chest, but before she could act on her impulse to bolt, Serena opened her eyes. A soft smile spread over her face. “Hello sleepyhead,” she murmured.

Bernie’s heart lurched at the low, gravelly quality of her sleep-drenched voice. “Uhm, hi,” she replied. “Uh...I’m not...not sure…”

Serena stretched, letting her foot slide softly against Bernie’s under the covers. “You were dead to the world when Jason and I got back from work,” she said quietly. “He wanted to wake you for dinner, but I thought you could do with the sleep more than the food.”

Bernie swallowed hard. “Right,” she said. “Okay. Uhm...maybe I should move into the guest room for the rest of the night. You shouldn’t have to give up half your bed just because I’ve been an immovable lump for the last nineteen hours.”

Serena shook her head. “The guest room has become Jason’s video game room,” she explained. “Apparently the light hits the living room TV incorrectly in the evenings. Elinor’s old bedroom is east facing, you see. No chance of inconvenient glare.”

For a moment, Bernie wasn’t sure what to say. “Right,” she managed at last. “Okay. Well...I can head home I suppose…”

She sat up and was about to swing her legs over the side of the bed when Serena stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Bernie,” she said. “It’s all right. I really don’t mind.” She smiled gently. “Don’t you remember us talking about this when I came to bed?”

Bernie blinked hard. “What?”

Serena looked up at her, resting her head on her palm. “Hmm,” she mused. “Your eyes were definitely open. We talked about Darren Smith’s foot. You asked how he was, I gave you an update - he’s doing fine, by the way. You offered to move into my non-existent guest room and I told you why that wasn’t possible. Then I said that I had no objection to bunking down with you for the night, and you said that sounded fine.”

Bernie frowned, racking her brain for any memory of the conversation Serena had described, even a vague one. “I don’t remember any of that,” she admitted at last, and Serena laughed.

“No? Well, I suppose I did get a slight hint that you weren’t fully lucid when you went on to inform me that the unicorns were due to fly at dusk.”

That drew a bark of surprised mirth from Bernie’s lips, and she quickly covered her mouth to muffle the noise. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I suppose I was even more tired than I’d thought.”

“That’s quite all right.” Serena let her hand slide down Bernie’s wrist to her hand and tangled their fingers together. “Come on. I’m sure you can manage another few hours.”

But sleep proved to be an elusive quarry. Bernie was hyper aware of Serena’s warm body beside her. Her pulse raced with every tiny movement or soft sigh. She held herself rigid, unwilling to move even an inch and risk bringing any of her bare skin into contact with Serena’s. It wouldn’t take much. Serena was so close she could feel her breath against her cheek.

“It was nice, actually.”

Bernie flinched. She’d thought Serena had fallen asleep. “What was?” she asked, her voice rough. She coughed once to clear her throat.

For a long moment there was silence. “Falling asleep next to someone,” Serena replied at last.

Slowly, Bernie turned her head so she could see Serena’s face but she couldn’t read the expression she found there. Her eyes were dark and hooded. “Someone?” Bernie murmured.

Serena smiled, then raised her hand to push a strand of hair behind Bernie’s ear. “Well,” she whispered. “Not _just_ someone. Not anyone.” She let her fingers trail gently over Bernie’s cheek. “You.”

Bernie sucked in a shuddering breath. She thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. “Serena?” she murmured, but Serena cut her off with a finger on her lips.

“I’m not alone in this, am I Bernie?” she whispered, her eyes drifting down to her lips as she leaned forward. Her hand slid into Bernie’s hair and rested there. “Am I?”

She flicked her eyes back up to meet Bernie’s, anxiety and hope fighting for dominance on her face. A delirious rush of love pushed Bernie forward, her heart swooping in her chest at Serena’s courage.

The first kiss was soft, a tentative brushing of lips. The second was bolder, surer. By the third, Bernie had pulled Serena flush against her and slid her hands around her shoulders. Someone moaned as their lips parted and the kiss deepened; neither could have said who. Serena’s fingers scraped through soft golden curls again and again, caressing and sifting each strand with obvious delight.

Bernie’s pulse was thundering, blood rushing wildly in her ears. Serena was so warm and soft in her arms, everything she’d imagined in long, lonely nights in her dreary flat, yet so much more too. Her imagination had not prepared her for the taste of her lips or the electric feeling of their bodies pressing together. It hadn’t prepared her for the fizz of excitement in her blood or the utter relief of knowing that she wasn’t alone. It certainly hadn’t prepared her for the tight feeling of desire low in her belly or the lick of fire under her skin.

She felt herself being pushed onto her back, Serena’s legs tangling with hers, the warm weight of her pinning her against the mattress. When Serena’s hands slid under her borrowed t-shirt, she tore her lips away with some difficulty, gasping into the soft dark of the unfamiliar bedroom.

“We don’t have to-” she began, but was silenced by the vision of Serena straddling her hips and raising herself up on her knees. Their eyes met, both dark, both smouldering, then Serena slowly but deliberately pulled her t-shirt up over her head and tossed it onto the floor.

Bernie swallowed hard, her fingers splaying over Serena’s bare stomach, feeling her muscles contract. Her eyes raked up and down the beautiful expanse of skin now revealed to her, and thought that this moment would be burned into her memory for the rest of her life.

“I want you,” Serena whispered. Bernie could see a muscle in her throat twitch, the only sign she wasn’t as cool and collected as she appeared. “If you want me.”

They stared at each other, breaths ragged, hearts pounding, for a long moment. “Of course I want you,” Bernie murmured at last. “You can’t imagine how much.”

Serena shook her head. “I think I can.” She leaned down to kiss her, sighing against her lips when she felt Bernie’s hands slide over her back. “I don’t know when it started,” she muttered between kisses. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. I didn’t know I could.”

Bernie’s heart leapt. Somehow she knew that Serena wasn’t just talking about her gender, the fact that she’d never been attracted to a woman before. She knew, because she felt it too. Because Serena was her friend? Her best friend? Or just because she was Serena and this is how it would always be between them? She didn’t know, and for now it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Serena was warm in her arms, her kisses were joyful and sweet, and this was everything she’d wanted for so, so long.

They barely needed to speak as they discarded their clothes. They lay, naked together in the dark, touching and caressing. Time seemed to stand still and rush forward all at once as they kissed and kissed, letting their hands explore where they wanted, over the smooth planes of a back, the curve of a hip, the firm muscles of a thigh. The sun was just beginning to lighten the horizon when Serena shuddered in her arms, gasping her pleasure into the hollow of Bernie’s throat. Bernie’s heart filled with joy and pride as she held her close, feeling the thunder of her heartbeat against her skin.

“I had no idea,” Serena moaned when she’d got her breath back. “No idea…”

Bernie smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Neither did I,” she murmured. “Let’s do it again.”

Serena laughed.

* * * * *

Darren Smith sat up in bed as his two surgeons approached. The brunette - Ms Campbell, he thought - checked on his chart while Ms Wolfe squirted some antiseptic gel onto her hands.

“How are you feeling this morning, Darren?” she asked brightly, leaning over to examine his healing foot.

“Uh...okay,” he mumbled. “Not too bad.” He hesitated. “I’m really sorry, by the way. About how I acted outside your flat. I was just showing off, you know how it is. To my mates.” He winced. “It was stupid.”

To his surprise, Ms Wolfe just smiled at him. “Don’t you worry, Darren,” she said. “I started it, after all. I’m a demon when I’ve had no sleep.”

He blinked slowly. “Right. Okay. Uhm...you managed to get some last night then?”

She flicked her eyes over to Ms Campbell, who seemed to blush ever so slightly. “A fair amount,” she said. “It was certainly a very pleasant evening.”

Ms Campbell suddenly coughed. Ms Wolfe grinned as she finished her examination and took his chart from her, making a couple of notes. “Looks like it’s healing nicely, Darren,” she said. “I’ll check on you in a couple of hours, okay?”

She patted Ms Campbell on the back as they turned and walked back towards their office together. “That’s a nasty sounding cough, Ms Campbell.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’m coming down with something. Could do with an early night.”

“That sounds like just what the doctor ordered…”

He tried to listen to the rest of the conversation, but either they were speaking too quietly or the office was too far away. He watched them for a couple more minutes but quickly lost interest. He picked up his phone instead, pulled up the BBC Sport website and began to scan the latest football scores.

Unnoticed by him, Ms Wolfe shut the office door and closed the blinds.


End file.
